Little Annabelle
by Fabie
Summary: Moments in Anna and Damon's relationship from 1864 to the present, and how it's changed.


Annabelle had always admired the eldest Salvatore brother. While all the girls her age (well, the age she appeared and for most intents and purposes, felt) fawned over the sensitive and soulful-eyed Stefan, Annabelle stood in the corner and watched Damon. He never saw her, never looked back, eyes always inevitably on Katherine.

Anna liked Katherine, too. She was envious of her beauty, of course, but more than anything Katherine impressed her. In her eyes, she was a real lady, full of power and experience. And mostly, mostly, she didn't mind that all the men looked at Katherine and treated her like a child. She really didn't.

But she _wants _Damon. Wants him like she's never wanted a man before. Not just his blood, running thick and warm under tongue – but the rest of him too. The way Katherine gets to have him, for a start, and more from there. She wants to posses his heart.

Damon will never think of little Annabelle that way. She is sweet, and he likes her, but she's just a kid (or so he thinks). Annabelle might as well be his sister. Sometimes he even wishes she were, instead of Stefan his brother. His life would be a lot easier. Annabelle wouldn't pursue the woman he loves; Annabelle wouldn't be better than him and make that woman love her better.

But _Anna_ is a different story. He sees her in New York, and it is August 1984, a chance meeting for the first time in 120 years. Damon is later surprised that he recognized her at all; She's a woman now, in considerably less clothing than 1864, body writhing against strangers in the middle of a packed club. The music is pounding. The lights flash, glinting off skin drenched with sweat. The summer is hot and high in the city, defying air conditioners and fans alike.

When he slides in behind her – easily pushing others out of the way – and begins dancing with her, she barely bats an eyelash.

"So you did survive, Damon Salvatore."

Her voice is deeper than he remembers it, but he suppose he always recalls a sixteen year old girl's dulcet "yes, mamas" and it's not easy to reconcile that with the women who's swaying her hips sensually in front of him.

"What, do I have a distinct smell or something?"

"Oh please. I saw you come in ages ago." She turns around, dark hair flying, and drapes her arms around his neck. Her hips tilt forward into his, and he finds he is dancing with her despite the fact that he hates dancing. He finds it a cheap replacement for sex, these days. And he can have sex if he wants it.

But despite his no-dancing policy, he doesn't mind it when Anna presses close him, slotting her head over his shoulder. Her movements seem a little slower than the tempo of the music, but he doesn't mind. And it kind of freaks him out.

"What, and you didn't come say hello? How terribly rude of you." It's not his usual cocky bravado, exactly, but she's used to the lovesick fool he was a century ago so it's got to be better than that.

"Oh, Damon, but I didn't think you'd be happy to see me." She has her lips against his cheek and he can feel her smile. If he were human he'd shiver.

"And why not, little Annabelle? I was always very fond of you." He places his hands on her waist, feeling her skin through thin fabric. It's probably even a little sheer, but he can't tell in this lighting.

"It's Anna." Her tone is firm, and there's a layer of upset well buried. "And _Annabelle_ was just a kid to you."

"Well, sure, but a sweet kid." He laughs, but she pulls away from him, annoyed.

"God, Damon, I'm like 200 years older than you. Are you still an idiot after all these years?" She crosses her arms over her chest, but he reaches out and snags one of her hands, spinning her swiftly back into his arms.

"Hey, hey, I get it." Hey says soothingly, but she doesn't relax. "Anna isn't Annabelle. And that is fine by me." He smirks, taking her hips in his hands and attempting to start the dance again.

"You're right. She's not." Anna, stubbornly, doesn't sway. She contemplates him for a few moments before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

Damon hadn't realized, but this is what he'd been waiting for. He pulls her up tight against him, snaking his tongue into her mouth. Anna kisses him back for a while, long enough for him to be pretty sure he's getting laid tonight, and then pulls away abruptly.

"Well, see you around, Damon Salvatore." She actually wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and turns, disappearing into the crowd. He's shocked – and a little bit pissed – enough not to try and follow her.

It's the first time since the change that a woman hasn't given him what he wants.

So when she shows up in Mystic Falls, at a point in time when he is emotionally a mess and mentally exhausted, denied of both women he loves and consumed by the nostalgia of a time he and Anna both shared…he's not going to let her say no.

Sure, at first he's pretty fucking pissed because she's throwing a wrench in his plans. And nobody should ever mess with his plans. But eventually Damon has to concede that they are indeed working towards the same goal, even if he refuses to work _with _her. Sure, she's hot, but that doesn't mean he can trust her. For all the years and situations between them, he doesn't know anything about Anna at all, when it comes right down to it.

Anna is all fire and ice though, focused on her mother and nothing else. Damon understands that kind of drive – but he also understands that he needs to blow off some steam.

But then she's gotten what she wanted. Damon is left seething with anger at Katherine's absence. And when he sees Anna batting her eyelashes all over Jeremy Gilbert, it just pisses him off even more. He doesn't know who the hell she is.

So Damon corners her after Miss Mystic Falls, when his body is already alight from being so close to Elena. He manages to catch her passing by some private study and shoves her inside faster than any humans would be able to catch, and he's able to lock the door before she storms out again. But she's fiercely angry, on the defensive even though he keeps his posture relaxed.

"What the hell, Damon? We gave you that device, what else do you want?"

"Anna, Anna. What makes you think I want anything?"

"Well, my first clue was you shoving me into this room against my will." She crosses her arms over her chest, perfectly poised on those dangerously high black heels.

"Oh. That." He smirks, leaning back against a desk. "I just wanted to spend some time with you, little Anna."

She rolls her eyes and starts towards the door. She gets in about two clicks with her heels before Damon speeds over and forces her backwards into the nearest wall. Anna doesn't even try to struggle; she just glares up at him. His hands are on her arms, but he moves closer so he's pinning her with his whole body. His nerves scream: _yes_. _Good Damon._

"Oh, so that's what you want, Damon." Anna smirks, raising one eyebrow. She reaches up to grab a fistful of his hair and locks her eyes on his. He loves their mischievous glint, he's ready to kiss her – and she tugs, hard, bringing his head back and exposing his neck.

He groans when she bites down into him, but she's brief, pulling her fangs out almost instantly. Vampire blood is never as good to drink, and certainly doesn't satisfy the cravings like any warm, fresh human – so he can see why she doesn't waste her time. Still, she licks his wound clean, purposefully slow. He takes this as an invitation to manhandle her, and promptly proceeds to place a hand on her thigh underneath the hem of her dress.

"Ugh, Damon, do you even know how to take it slow?" She says this, but then she starts kissing him, so Damon doesn't really take her seriously. He just continues inching her skirt up.

She laughs into the kiss and pushes against his chest, forcing him backwards until he bumps into a table. He flips their positions smoothly, lifting her so she's sitting on the wooden surface.

Anna doesn't resist when he reaches around her to unzip her dress. She just shimmies her shoulders a little so it falls down, exposing her dark blue bra. He grins, staring. She's gorgeous, strong and curvy like he never would have guessed back when she wore the clothes of a twelve-year-old Amish girl.

"Yeah, Damon, I have breasts. Surprise." She laughs, and he winks, pulling back a moment to shrug out of his jacket and unbutton his shirt.

"I can see that, Anna." He dives back in, attacking her mouth with fervor. Anna's hands come up to his shoulders, pushing off his shirt roughly. She moves her hands down his chest, across his abdomen, touch teasingly light. Damon growls in response, and tugs her dress down, freeing her of it completely. She's efficient, quickly divesting him of his pants and the both of them of their underwear before he can even move to help.

She's got her legs around his waist, and he pushes inside of her, groaning. Her gasps are immensely satisfying, her grip on his back even better. Damon likes the scrape of her nails, her breathy moans as he works into a rhythm.

Anna's leaning back onto the desk, and Damon follows her like a magnet. Her dark hair spreads out around her head, a stark contrast to her pale skin. He grins and leans down to kiss her neck, moving into her harder now that he has better leverage.

They're rocking the table, both making no effort to hush their moans. Damon doesn't care if he breaks everything in this room – hell, he'd feel accomplished – it's just so, so good. Her nails are digging into the flesh of his back, breaking the skin, but it only encourages him. The pain only makes it better for Damon, most days. It's the way he likes it. Rough. The angrier the better.

He can feel himself getting closer, and he leans down to kiss her. It's sloppy, mouths open and tongues pressed hot and heavy in each other's mouths. Anna's close too. Her eyes are tightly closed, but everything else about her screams reckless abandon. It's like she's giving her sexuality out in waves.

And it's delicious. He feels her climax around him, the shudder running through her body and into his own, and he doesn't hold out for much longer. It's so good, so pure; he wants to dig his teeth into her, run his hands all over her – anything to keep the moment.

She sighs, long and deep and relaxed. He slides out of her and stands, watching her as she opens her eyes. Anna's staring right at him, smirking, obviously pleased with herself.

He smirks right back, and begins to get dressed while she slides herself off the table. They don't talk at all throughout dressing, but once they look presentable again Damon approaches her.

"Had a good time, little Annabelle?"

Her expression turns instantly stony, and she shoves him against a wall so hard and fast he doesn't even have time to blink.

"It's Anna." She practically growls, and leans close to him. Her expression becomes lighter, something of condescending mixed with tease. "And it was alright. But it's okay, baby, I know I rocked your world."

He's a little bit impressed with her, yeah, so he lets her walk out of the room without another word. After all, it's ridiculous to spoil a perfectly good fuck with too much conversation. Especially if it's sort of-kind of-shouldn't-really-be-the-enemy.

He grins and walks back into the party, a new spring to his step.


End file.
